Veronica Roth Quotes

What is it with you today?” says Christina on the way to breakfast. Her eyes are still swollen from sleep and her tangled hair forms a fuzzy halo around her face. “Oh, you know,” I say. “Sun shining. Birds chirping.” She raises an eyebrow at me, as if reminding me that we are in an underground tunnel.

It happened. It was awful. You aren't perfect. That's all there is. Don't confuse your grief with guilt.

It's not often real that you encounter the real person behind a good-natured mask, the darkest part of someone. It's not comfortable what you do.

He seems designed specifically for speed and deadly accuracy. But not strength, not particularly-he is smart, but not strong. Only strong enough to carry me.

But that wasn´t the first time I ever saw her. I saw her in the hallways at school, and at my mother’s false funeral, and walking the sidewalks in the Abnegation sector. I saw her, but I didn’t see her; no one saw her the way she truly was until she jumped. I suppose a fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.

Inquisitiveness is self-serving, Johanna. -Marcus Eaton

It's not that I ever sat down and outlined a trilogy, but I always have a sense of what size an idea is when I start it.

But when I do feel all the strength go out of me, and I fall to my knees beside the table and I think I cry, then, or at least I want to, and everything inside me screams for just one more kiss, one more word, one more glance, one more.

What's your name? Um... Think about it. You don't get to pick again. Tris.

When you're a teenager, everything seems like the end of the world, and I don't think that's necessarily a silly thing. You're waking up and becoming aware that the world has problems and those problems affect you, whereas when you're young they don't seem to affect you that much even if you're aware of them. This dystopian trend picks up on that little part of your life where everything feels really extreme and it honors that part of your life and says, "Yeah. It is the end of the world. Look at it."

Killing you is not the worst thing they can do to you," I say. "Controlling you is.

I wonder how I seem to them. They must see someone I don't see. Someone capable and strong. Someone I can't be; someone I can be.

There's really no way to be perfect. Perfectionism is a silly trait to have, so in a lot of ways that inspired the world of 'Divergent,' in which everyone is striving toward that ideal and falling short of it.

Okay, okay.” I set my hand on top of his and guide it to my chest, so it’s right over my heart. “Feel my heartbeat. Can you feel it?” “Yes.” “Feel how steady it is?” “It’s fast.” “Yes, well, that has nothing to do with the box.” I wince as soon as I’m done speaking. I just admitted to something. Hopefully he doesn’t realize that.

As a teenager, I put a lot of pressure on myself, and a lot of that, for me, was about finding a moral high ground. As I've grown up, I've decided to abandon that because it made me judgmental and also stressed me out.

I also don't believe that whatever come after life depends on my correctly reciting a list of my transgressions-that sounds too much like an Erudite afterlife to me, all accuracy and no feeling.

He's one of the last friends I have," she says, her voice breaking. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at you the same way again.

Somewhere inside me is a merciful, forgiving person. Somewhere there is a girl who tries to understand what people are going through, who accepts that people do evil things and that desperation leads them to darker places than they ever imagined, I swear she exists, and she hurts for the repentant boy I see in front of me. But if I saw her, I wouldn't recognize her.

I am afraid of her, afraid of what she says-and thrilled by it too, because it means I don't have to accept that I am smaller than I once believed.

The only reason I haven't shot you yet is because he's the one who should get to do it," I say. "Stay away from him or I'll decide I no longer care.

He gives me a conflicted look and touches his lips to my forehead, right between my eyebrows. I close my eyes. I don't understand this, whatever it is. But I don't want to ruin it, so I say nothing. He doesn't move; he just stays there with his mouth pressed to my skin, and I stay there with my hands on his waist, for a long time.

When you're a writer, you hear your internal critic, and that's really hard to get over. And then sometimes you hear critiques from classmates and stuff. But when a book comes out, it's just hundreds of opinions and you have to learn to separate out the ones you want to listen to or figure out many you want to listen to.

I love you," I say. I said that once, before I went to Erudite headquarters, but he was asleep then. I don't know why I didn't say it when he could hear it. Maybe I was afraid to trust him with something so personal as my devotion. Or afraid that I did not know what it was to love someone. But now I think the scary thing was not saying it before it was too late. Not saying it before it was almost too late for me.

Well, technology is supposed to make life better," she says. "No matter what you believe, there's a technology out there for you.

I can't tell him I need him. I can't need him, period -- or really, we can't need each other, because who knows how long either of us will last in this war?

she’s not pretty, that word is too small. She is not like the girls I used to stare at, all bend and curve and softness. She is small but strong, and her bright eyes demand attention. Looking at her is like waking up.

Who cares about everyone? What about me?

It's then that I realize: Of course Tris would go into the Weapons Lab instead of Caleb. Of course she would.

But maybe what I saw as fearless was actually fear under control.

Do remember, though, that sometimes the people you oppress become mightier than you would like.

Thank you for your honesty," Niles says. The Candor repeat the phrase under their breath. All around me are the words "Thank you for your honesty" at different volumes and pitches, and my anger begins to dissolve.

I wipe my face with my sleeve, laughing so hard my stomach hurts. If my entire life is like this, loud laughter and bold action and the kind of exhaustion you feel after a hard but satisfying day, I will be content.

Like a wild animal, the truth is too powerful to remain caged.

Some things are hard to let go of.

Sometimes,” he says, sliding his arm across my shoulders, “people just want to be happy, even if it’s not real.

I’d ask you to hang out with us, but you’re not supposed to see me this way.’… ‘What way?’ I ask. ‘Drunk?’ ‘Yeah…well, no.’ His voice softens. ‘Real, I guess.’ ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t.’ ‘Nice of you.’ He puts his lips next to my ear and says, ‘You look good, Tris.’… I laugh. ‘Do me a favor and stay away from the chasm, okay?’ ‘Of course.’ He winks at me.

In the days that follow, it's movement, not stillness, that helps to keep the grief at bay.

Caleb," I say, "I love you." His eyes gleam with tear as he says, "I love you, too, Beatrice.

Those who blamed aggression formed Amity.’… ‘Those who blamed ignorance became the Erudite.’… ‘Those who blamed duplicity created Candor.’… ‘Those who blamed selfishness made Abnegation.’… ‘And those who blamed cowardice were the Dauntless.

I like to think I'm helping them by hating them. I'm reminding them that they aren't God's gift to humankind.

The person you became with her is worth being.

Desperation can make a person do surprising things.

I think it's a human tendency that's been around for a while to try to be as good as possible to prove your worth.

Sometimes pain is for the greater good.

Before I chose Dauntless...I felt assured of my long lifespan, if nothing else. Now there are no reassurances except that where I go, I go because I choose to.

Looking at her is like waking up.

The Dauthless have the wierdest slang. Pansycake, Nose...is there a term for The Candor?" "Of course."Uriah grins."Jerks

I can’t answer either question. But the look she gives me reminds me of the look in the attack dog’s eyes in the aptitude test – a vicious, predatory stare. She wants to rip me to pieces. I can’t lie down in submission now. I have become an attack dog too.